


Calling His Bluff

by starhawk2005



Category: House M.D.
Genre: F/M, Ficlet, Het, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-16
Updated: 2012-08-16
Packaged: 2017-11-12 07:25:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/488236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starhawk2005/pseuds/starhawk2005
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alternate take on the ‘date’ scene in Meaning.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Calling His Bluff

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Me wantey, but they ain’t mine.  
> Author Notes: Spoilery for 'Meaning', obviously.

He’s messing with her. He must be.

_I drink, you drink. We could do it at the same time, same table. Do you eat? We could do that, too._

Allison finds herself messing right back. Because she’s had two months without House around.

Enough time to catch her breath. Change her perspective.

“I also have _sex_ ,” she shoots back at him, complete with defiant eyebrow-raise. “So do you. We ‘could do it at the same time, same table’, then, right?”

House is smiling, but in an odd way. As if he’s _seeing_ her for the first time. She could get used to this.

“Got a particular table in mind?” he asks, his voice pitched low. Surprisingly sultry.

A frisson of pleasure in her stomach, but she doesn’t show it to him. He’s still baiting her, bluffing. He must be. It’s _him_ , that’s what he does.

She sticks with the game. She’s not going to fold first. Not this time. Not _again_ , if she can help it. “Exam Room Four,” she tosses back at him, meeting him stare for stare.

His grin widens slightly, and Allison is wet between her legs already. She could almost hate him for that. But she doesn’t.

“After you,” he says, gesturing. She forces herself not to show surprise.

She walks with a measured, even stride to their apparent destination, House striding soundlessly – _thump_ -free – behind her. _He’ll balk at the door_ , she tells herself, preparing a snide remark in her head against that inauspicious event.

She doesn’t glance around to see who might be watching, just opens the door to the exam room. He says nothing after all. She walks into the middle of the room, not expecting him to follow her in. But he does.

He’s pressed up against her the moment she turns around. Rough and soft against her face, he grabs her chin in lean fingers and kisses her. Hard. She’s even wetter.

Maybe it’s not a bluff.

He’s still kissing her, stealing her air, and she’s pushing her hips against him, reflex, uncontrollable.

His hand drops from her face, and then he’s lifting her up, effortlessly, seating her on the edge of the examination table. Blue eyes searing into hers.

OK, probably not a bluff.

He’s undoing her slacks, pushing them down her hips. Working his hand into her damp panties. Still looking into her face.

His hand’s on her back, pressing her forward against his lean frame, as the pad of his thumb locates her clit and pushes gently on it. As other fingers dip lower, dip inside her, work their way into her slickness. Press and push and stretch her.

She throws her head back, gasping, clutching at his shoulders, digging her nails into his blazer.

Not a bluff, no sir.

He pumps his hand, thrusts into her, gives her clit a little teasing rub on every calculated stroke. When she starts to tighten up around him, he drags her face back for a kiss, muffling her cry of pleasure with his soft lips and softer tongue.

He doesn’t take his hand away from inside her, even when she’s finally calm, limp and sated and leaning on him like all her bones have evaporated.

“It wasn’t the ‘same time’, I know,” he whispers in her ear, wicked edge in his voice. “But we’ll get to that. Won’t we?”

So, he was being serious. For him. About freakin’ time. “Of course,” she says, keeping her voice light. Wicked, to match his. “There’s other tables out there. Be a shame not to try _more_ of them.”

He chuckles. “Good.”

 


End file.
